


however wrong, however misplaced, however delayed.

by teatro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Dean is a mess, Episode: s15e18 Despair, First Time Blow Jobs, I don't like penis, I have never performed a blowjob before, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Self-Loathing, and by feelings I mean a lot of, and neither Dean, but I love him like that, but he does, in this house we spell Cass with two S, or as I like to call it, the truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27760201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teatro/pseuds/teatro
Summary: Castiel is dead.Dean is left with his unexpressed feelings and desire - so he beg Sam to let him do what he never managed before.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Kudos: 13





	however wrong, however misplaced, however delayed.

Just let me do it, Sammy. For once, just let me do it.

Dean was desperate. Sam has never seen his brother like this, crying, begging on his knees. The end of the world was so close and yet, it felt like something greater, something desperately worst just happened in Dean's life.

He asked before Where is Cass when his brother didn't answer any of his calls, when he returned to the bunker finding Dean crying on the floor, when he urged Jack to just go back to his room, when he kneeled in front of Dean, hugging his brother. Where is Cass - gone.

Castiel had died in front of them so many time in the past, so many in front of Dean, but something was different this time. It felt final. It felt that for the umpteenth time Dean had let everything he wanted stay buried in him.

And yet again, it was too late.

Dean was unbuckling his belt and Sam suddenly knew the chain of thoughts that were piercing his brother's pain. He tried to stop him, but the agony he saw reflected in Dean's eyes, he just couldn't deny him that.

Just let me do it, Sammy. For once, just let me do it.

He thought of the shame is brother was going to feel once over, of the self-loathing galloping is own existence. But Dean rejected his truth for so long, this was his way to claim his nature - however wrong, however misplaced, however delayed.

Dean was eager in front of Sam's cock. Licking his length, mixing Sam's sweat with his tears on his tongue. His hands grasping Sam's buttocks pushing his brother's erection closer to him.

Sam knew, in this case, he was just a body, that Dean's mind was roving elsewhere, picturing what he has always forbidden himself to want with other men.

With Sam too.

With Cass, most of all.

With Cass who wasn't there anymore and for whom his brother was now sucking his incestuous cock just to feel what he has always denied himself. Dean, why do you hate yourself this much? Sam was still standing, trying so hard to delay his release, willing to give Dean more time, trying to be better than acknowledging how the twisted vision of his brother worshipping his pleasure was

pathetic

and yet

inviting.

Dean's swollen lips, brushing against his tip, licking every inch, catching every drop and every tear, mixing his salty pain with his brother's sour satisfaction.

The disordering scorch Dean was feeling in that moment, the need for atonement and the constant burden of being a curse for his loved one was lit by Cass's last words - if Dean was made of love, if love always souled his actions, if caring engaged with every step of his fuckedup life why couldn't he just offer himself to those who wanted him, the way he wanted too? Why did he let Cass sacrifice himself believing Dean didn't -

that Dean didn't want

wished

dreamed

hoped

that Dean didn't love him back.

Not like this. This wasn't the way it should have been, but as Sam was coming into his mouth, Dean felt, for a moment, at peace.

**Author's Note:**

> I saw that explicit distil content was so close to 20000 fics I wanted so badly to be the one who reached that number. So I have started writing. My fic will probably be number 19997.


End file.
